


Becoming a Bookworm

by cosmicaven



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Auror Harry Potter, Bookstores, Erotica, Harry and Ginny never got married or had kids lmao, It's like coffee shop au except books, M/M, Shop Owner Draco Malfoy, neither did astoria and draco, we love ignoring canon!!!!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-07-14 02:56:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16031522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicaven/pseuds/cosmicaven
Summary: Hellloooo, this is one of my first Drarry fics! I hope you enjoy it, it took my brain a while to create.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hellloooo, this is one of my first Drarry fics! I hope you enjoy it, it took my brain a while to create.

Harry’s most selfish indulgence was in long, contemplative walks. He liked to observe all the people shuffling by in muggle London, shouting into their phones or dragging along a pouting child, begging for ice cream. He had a chance for things to slow down, so that he could just sit and think. 

Having developed a caffeine addiction thanks to the long hours poring over paperwork at the Ministry, Harry was already nursing his third coffee of the day. He took a last, long gulp from the cup and threw it away. He proceeded to step into a quaint bookstore that he hadn’t ever seen before. He had taken a different walking path than usual, and found himself curiously attracted to the little place. Harry liked how the store was a bit run-down, but still looked warm and homey. 

As he pushed the door open, the bell rang loudly, upsetting the tranquil silence of the store. Several patrons looked up at him and as he made eye contact with one of them, he saw the glint of recognition in her eye. He quickly realized that he'd somehow come upon a Wizarding store, sandwiched between a Muggle clothing shop and a grocer’s. 

Sighing to himself and grabbing a book at random, Harry ascended up the flight of rickety stairs. He hoped to grab a few more minutes of tranquility, and then he would go visit Teddy. Settling himself heavily in a purple bean bag chair, he cherished the fact that no one else was up there. Well, there was one person; he assumed that the man arranging books on the shelves in front of him was the owner. 

Upon further inspection, Harry had to admit that whoever he was, he was very handsome. He had a long, lean body with legs that seemed to go on and on. Harry opened his book to a random page to at least seem like he was reading, but peered over the top of the novel to get one more shameless glance of the man. 

The man, who abruptly turned around and made direct eye contact with Harry. He immediately froze, and Harry was horrified when he saw who exactly it was that he was ogling. 

“Potter?” the blonde asked, like he was in shock. 

“Malfoy?!” Malfoy schooled his astonished expression to one of clear distaste almost immediately. He straightened and folded his arms over his skinny chest, glancing at Harry distrustfully.

“What’s your business here? Aurors need a statement from the Wizengamot before they come barging into privately owned shops. Not even you’re absolved from the law, Potter.” Malfoy raised a blonde eyebrow, and Harry’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment. There was an incident a few weeks after the end of the War, and Harry had been arrested for drunk and disorderly behavior outside the Leaky. 

“That was all before I started Auror training, and I was cleared of the charges,” Harry protested, mirroring Malfoy and crossing his arms, setting the book down. “Anyway, I’m not here on Auror business. I’m not even on duty right now.” 

“Then what are you here for?” Malfoy strode across the room and picked up the book that Harry dropped, despite his protests. After scanning the title, he said, “I doubt it’s to learn about the importance of Crup-training. If you’d adopted a Crup, I would’ve read it in the papers.” 

“Read a lot about me nowadays, do you, Malfoy?” Harry shot back, anger rising in his chest that he hadn’t felt since Hogwarts. No-one had seen Malfoy since his trial, and the man before him still had that schoolboy fire in him, unlike the scared boy that sat before the Wizengamot, waiting for his punishment. Clearly, purchasing this shop had done him good, but Harry couldn’t fathom why a Malfoy have any desire to work at all. 

“I just can’t seem to avoid you, to my endless despair. You’re honestly telling me that you just stumbled onto my bookshop?” Malfoy demanded, which was somewhat understanding, considering it did look like Harry was staring at him whilst he worked. Well, he was watching him, Harry admitted to himself, but for entirely different reasons. 

“Yes,” Harry said, exasperated. “Honest. I just grabbed a book at random because the people downstairs were staring.”

“And then you sat right there and stared at me. Likely story, Potter.” Harry flushed bright red, and Malfoy rolled his eyes, turning back to sort the shelves.

“But yes, I expect they did. Most of my customers are seasoned writers, and writers like to spin stories. Especially about high-profile celebrities; I can’t imagine what rumors they might start about our very own Chosen One setting foot in an ex-Death Eater’s bookshop.” He turned to Harry and smirked before returning to the books. 

Harry just let out a huff, unable to come up with a retort, and then they sat in silence for a moment. Malfoy set his focus towards his cataloguing, while Harry was staring at the back of his head, his thoughts whirling. What else could he do here? All of Harry’s affection for the store had vanished once he saw who owned it. Either he demanded Malfoy tell him why he had a bookstore, which would practically be asking to get hexed, or he could just up and leave. 

Harry chose the latter. “I’ll let you get back to your book-sorting, then.” He heavily rose from the chair and walked towards the stairs. 

“Happy reading, Potter,” Malfoy sneered at him. As Harry continued down the stairs, he swore that he could feel Malfoy’s gaze on him as he walked out. 

-[-]-

A weekend passed after Harry’s strange visit to Malfoy’s bookstore. He spent most of it in pajamas in his flat, alternating between wondering why Malfoy had that store, and trying not to think about it at all. He’d wondered where the blonde ended up after the War, but just assumed he was up in France getting fed grapes, or whatever it was that rich people did in their spare time. He never would have guessed that he was the owner of a quaint little store. 

Did he hold Slytherin book clubs every week, where they would read Muggle novels and laugh about how idiotic they were? Was there a back room where he sold Dark books to people? Could he secretly be selling his own Pureblood supremacy manifestos? Although Harry didn’t underestimate Malfoy’s Slytherinness, he seriously doubted the man could be an evil genius like that. Either way, though, it didn’t stop Malfoy from drifting into his mind more often than he’d care to admit. 

He resolved himself to go back there on Monday, during his lunch break. He wanted to tell Ron and Hermione, but he felt this need to keep that little store a secret. Like it would be ruined if he told anyone else. After tomorrow he’d tell everyone how odd it all was. 

But for now, he would keep it to himself. Just until he figured out exactly what Malfoy was up to. 

-[-]-

“Morning, Harry!” Seamus cheerfully greeted, waving at him, donut in hand. An image of a fat Muggle police officer came into his mind, and he waved back, saying, “Watch it with the donuts, mate. You’ve got a wedding in a few months.” 

Seamus paled in an instant, looking down the glistening pastry with a hint of fear in his eyes. “Don’t remind me, Harry,” Seamus pleaded with him. The Irishman looked down at it again with disdain, and held it out to Harry. “D’you want it?” 

Harry smiled and took the donut from him, humming cheerfully as he bit into it. It wasn’t the first time that he’d fooled Seamus out of whatever food he was eating, and without fail, the man would pass it over. “Thanks, man,” Harry gave him a cheeky smirk and Seamus just rolled his eyes and walked back to his desk. 

“See you later, donut thief.” 

“Yeah.” Harry continued on to his desk, but not before passing by Ron at his desk. The chair opposite him was empty, and Harry nodded towards it, giving Ron a questioning look. “Where’s Hannah?” 

Hannah Abbott, Ron’s partner, was kind and loyal, and one of the most hardworking Aurors that Harry’s ever known. She and Ron had been partnered up after they finished training, and although people would sometimes request partner changes, they stuck together for years. It was Hannah who’d pulled Harry away from the Leaky and put him to rights when he was at his absolute worst, drinking almost every night and getting trailed by reporters when he would cause a public disturbance. 

“She’s at St Mungo’s,” he said. Harry winced in sympathy for her; as lovely as all the doctors were, he knew she was itching to get out of that hospital bed and back to normal. “What happened?” 

Ron sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair. “We weren’t on any cases, and a call came in about a Muggle girl who just came into her magic, and she attacked her father. We were supposed to just go in and calm the situation, but…” Harry felt a twisting in his chest. Something had definitely gone wrong; uncontrollable child magic was a force to be reckoned with. 

But he was shocked to hear what Ron had to say next. “You could obviously tell that she was afraid; the father was screaming at her, and he had a belt in her hand. He didn’t even notice us, he was so pissed off, and it looked like he was trying to grab at her neck,” Ron paused for a second to take a shuddering breath. He wasn’t in the hospital, but he was obviously affected by this as well. 

“As soon as Hannah saw what was going on, she Stunned him and started throwing hexes at him,” Ron laughed dryly. “I just let her do her thing; you can’t do much to stop her when she gets that look in her eye. But I was so concentrated on trying to calm the girl that neither of us saw her mum coming up behind Hannah.” 

“Long story short, it didn’t look like she cared very much what the father was doing to her kid, she was more upset at poor Hannah. Her forearm got Incendio’d pretty badly before I had the chance to put it out. They’re trying to re-grow skin for her now.” 

Harry shook his head, not out of shock that someone could do that to a child, because he was well aware of what adults were capable of, but pure regret that she had to go through that. One niggling detail pulled at him, however. 

“I thought you said they were Muggles? How did Hannah get burned?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Ron gave Harry a conspiratorial look. “Turns out that her mum was a witch all along, but she hid it because she wanted to be ‘normal.’” Ron shook his head ruefully. “I don’t know how she thought that would ever work out. I would never be able to hide something like that.”

“I hope the girl is okay, though,” Harry posed a silent question. Ron shook his head again. 

“They can’t really do anything with her except to tell her how to control her magic and put her in Muggle foster care. I wish we had more resources for magic kids, it would’ve been easier for-” 

Ron cut off, but he was looking at Harry significantly. Harry just shrugged and said, “Hogwarts was always my home. When she gets her letter, she’s going to be overjoyed.”

“Hope so, mate. After work today, we’re all gonna go visit. You coming?” 

“‘Course. I’ll bring balloons.” Hannah loved when they brought her balloons for her birthday. She said they reminded her of when she was little.

“Aces! I love those things, they’re like Muggle magic.” Ron beamed and turned back to his paperwork.

Looking at Ron’s pile of papers reminded him of his own, waiting for him at his desk. On his way there, Harry kept thinking about that little girl. How frustrated and miserable she must have felt, her magic breaking through to protect her. It reminded Harry of Fred, George and Ron in their flying car, rescuing Harry from the Dursleys. He just hoped that the girl was as lucky as Harry, and found another family that she could be part of. 

-[-]-

Time couldn’t pass quick enough, it seemed. The more _Tempuses_ that Harry cast, the slower the minutes crawled by. Not only was the paperwork he had to do exceedingly dry, but he was eagerly awaiting the chance to snoop around Malfoy’s shop again. He brought his Invisibility Cloak to work, and hidden it deep inside his bag where Hermione had cast an Undetectable Extension charm. That way he could snoop around freely, and he wouldn’t have a suspicious Pureblood on his arse, watching him. 

Eventually, though, the clock hit 12, and Harry practically jumped out of his seat, his bag in hand, ready to go visit a bookstore. As he left, he called out a quick, “Going into Muggle London, mate!” to Ron, so he knew not to wait up for him. He felt a little guilty for ditching on his best mate like that, but Harry was itching to find out what Malfoy was up to. _Really, I should be getting paid overtime,_ Harry thought and smiled to himself, as he he selflessly giving up his lunch to spy on potential evil genius Draco Malfoy.

As soon as Harry exited the Ministry, he took a quick look-round to see if anyone was looking around. Everyone was Disapparating to their lunch destinations, so Harry took a chance and slipped on the Cloak. He envisioned the part of Muggle London where Malfoy’s shop had been; a bit disheveled, old lamp posts all around, and an ornate storefront. He turned on his heel and felt the insistent _sucking_ feeling deep in his gut, pulling him towards his destination. 

Soon, he was facing the front door yet again. There was a bell attached to it, and suddenly Harry realized: surely everyone would be suspicious if the door opened and the bell rung but there was no-one there. Damn—Harry didn’t know what those writers would tell the Prophet if they saw him again.

Could he just pretend the wind had done it? After a few moments of loitering on the front step, Harry just decided to barge in, so it would look like the wind had slammed the door open. 

Once he entered, he noticed that there were a lot less people shopping. Not that there was a crowd last time, or anything, but the store was practically barren. He supposed that people had other things to do at lunchtime on a Monday. 

He walked over to the register; there was a college-age woman at the register, tapping away at her mobile. Harry supposed there wasn’t much magic present at the stores other than the information in the books, so her phone would still work. But where was Malfoy?

Harry slinked between the rows and rows of books, and found the back of a blonde head all the way in the back. He was on his tip-toes, a long, pale arm reaching up to grab a red book. It was fairly thick, and the title was in a dainty, looping font. Before Harry could get a chance to peek at the cover, Malfoy hugged the book to his chest, looking around quickly as if to see if anyone saw him getting it. 

After he was satisfied that no-one had seen him, Malfoy let out a small sigh, a slight smile appearing on his face. He hastily walked to the stairs to go up to the second floor, and Harry followed right behind him. His heart was racing, and he could barely contain himself. What if the book contained Dark spellwork? No matter what it was, he wouldn’t let the other man out of his sight. 

The stairs were small and cramped, and if Malfoy even leaned back a little, he would fall back against Harry’s chest. Malfoy seemed eager to get up there, climbing the stairs quickly, while Harry was desperately trying not to step on a creaking part of the stairs. They got to the top, and Malfoy went to one corner of the room and transfigured one of the rickety, wooden chairs into a large bean bag. He flopped himself down into the chair and opened the book—not to the first page, but to a page that he looked like he had memorized from reading it before. 

Settling himself quietly in a chair opposite to Malfoy, Harry leaned forwards so he could read the title of the book. _My Life With Evan,_ it read, and Harry noted the author’s name so he could ask Hermione about it later. The book didn’t seem like it was anything Dark or evil at all, though, and Harry felt a bit foolish that he would assume it was. Here he was, sneaking around and hiding in an Invisibility Cloak just to watch Malfoy read his favorite novel. 

Soon, he would leave, he promised himself, but in the meantime, he kept looking at Malfoy. He looked so peaceful as he read, all his stress and tension melted away as he became absorbed in his book. A little smile played on his face, an expression Harry was seeing more and more of and it utterly fascinated him. He was in awe, watching Malfoy. 

After a few moments, though, he saw that Malfoy was doing something odd. After reading something on the page, he breathed deeply, and exhaled it in sort of a shudder. He started rearranging himself on the bean bag, his legs splayed open and he leaned back. His focus seemed even more intent on the words. His breaths starting going fast and breathy. 

What the hell was he reading? The book looked like a normal old novel, but— Harry got up and strode over to stand behind Malfoy’s chair, crouching down to read the words before he even noticed he was doing it. Curiosity overtook him, and as soon as he started to read, Harry wanted to squirm. He definitely wasn’t going to ask Hermione about this. 

_He looked at me with a look so dark and smouldering that I couldn’t help it, I let out a whine. His eyes darkened even more, if that was even possible, and then he shoved me against the wall. My hands scrabbled against the cold brick as he pressed himself against me, his body hard and unrelenting against mine. He whispered things in my ear that made me groan, made me beg, but he just kept teasing. I was so hard for him. My beautiful Evan, he consumed me in the most intoxicating way. I told him I needed him to take me to his bed, and take me apart with his tongue. He just laughed, and picked me up by the back of my thighs, kissing me deeply._

That was all Harry got to read before Malfoy’s position shifted, his hair falling to his face and blocking Harry’s view. His heart was pounding, and he realized with an intense pang that Malfoy was not only gay, but he was reading gay pornography in his own shop. He looked like he was enjoying it a fair bit, at that. His ears were flushed, and as far as Harry could tell, Malfoy didn’t want anything more than to find out what Evan would do to the main character. 

Harry wanted to find out, as well. He had never seen a book that so openly advertised something like that inside of it in any other bookstore, Wizarding or Muggle. Of course, there was plenty of it with a man and a woman, but none of it was anything but that. He had to admit that this was so much more intoxicating, it affected him so much more than when he would try and watch Muggle porn on the Internet. The words brought a tingle down his spine, a stirring of something in his abdomen. He felt a bit dizzy, like he should sit down, but he desperately wanted to keep reading. 

What was he thinking? He was invisible, watching Malfoy doing something incredibly private and embarrassing. He knew that if someone caught him getting off on something like this, he would mortified. He would never be able to look into their eyes again. Right as he thought that, Malfoy let out the tiniest groan in between his heavy breaths. 

Oh, god, was Malfoy going to get off, right now, in his shop? Harry had to leave. He didn’t know why he felt so torn up about leaving; a tiny part of him wanted to see Malfoy break apart completely, but this was _Malfoy,_ infamous Slytherin. 

But he didn’t look so evil right in that moment; his eyes were closed shut, his cheeks and neck flushed pink as he brought a slow, teasing hand down his chest that eventually rested between his legs. Suddenly, he let out a gasp, and ground against his own hand, and Harry had to suppress his own urge to moan. 

Instead, he took a deep, steadying breath and quietly walked to the stairs, climbing down them and trying not to think, but not being able to help himself. _Oh, god, he’s probably touching himself right now._

Before he left, Harry decided he would take a copy of the red book with the looping letters. There were only a few other copies; he didn’t think there would be many, but he knew Malfoy would notice anyway. He made sure he left a Galleon at the register, and hoped no one thought it was suspicious. Finding a secluded corner amongst dozens and dozens of books, Harry Disapparated to his flat, ready to start reading from the beginning. 

He didn’t even have time to wonder if he was going to go back to the shop—Harry already knew he would.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took me like 2 months, but I did it, guys! Updated my fic! (sorry it took a while, I was hospitalized and then school and stuff D:) But without further ado, let the fic continue.

Harry spent the rest of the work day pretending to do his paperwork. He couldn’t focus on the forms no matter how he tried; it felt like Malfoy’s gasping breaths were bouncing off the walls, and since Harry had no partner, there was nothing stopping the thoughts from consuming him. He felt desperate, like he needed to do something - to go back to the store, grab the blonde by the shoulders and shake him ‘till he got answers, or to read from the red book and let his thoughts spin and spin. 

Endless. He was so confused, and the twisting feeling in his chest wouldn’t go away. Why was he so affected by it? He knew people were gay, bisexual—Dean and Seamus certainly let people know how their relationship had changed in their 8th year. They were happy, and that’s all Harry ever wanted for his friends. He never had a second thought about it; he knew that other people were gay and he wasn’t, but now, he began to question that. 

He envisioned himself having sex with a random man, and that didn’t do anything for him, but some ‘random woman’ didn’t hold any appeal to him, either. Harry saw Oliver in his full Quidditch regalia in his mind’s eye; THAT was appealing. He imagined the man in the red book, Evan, leaning over the main character and biting his neck roughly, grinding their hips together. That made him feel things, too, but it was just fiction. It didn’t mean Harry liked men. 

Then, Harry thought about Malfoy. When he first saw him, he had the fleeting thought that he was really fit. That Harry would’ve liked to run a hand down his back to rest at his hips, move in close to him and whisper things into his ear. It wasn’t something Harry would think often, about anyone at all, but Malfoy was always a special case. 

After a few long hours of chewing on his pen and trying not to think about Malfoy, Ron came up to his desk and waved a hand in front of Harry’s face. “Are you there, mate?” His voice was tinged with laughter. Harry always had the tendency to space out when he wasn’t doing anything he considered important or exciting; (see: History of Magic, years 1-8). 

“What? Oh, hey mate. We’re visiting Hannah, right?” Harry winced when he realized he’d forgotten to get balloons. He had been too busy hiding under his Cloak, watching Malfoy- 

“I’ll meet you guys there, I just have to pick up the balloons.” 

“I’ll come with you! Maybe we can pick up some Thai on the way.” Harry’s stomach rumbled at the very thought. He smiled and grabbed his bag. Everything was normal; he didn’t have to keep thinking about all those things that got him all confused. He and Ron would get Thai, they would go visit Hannah, and it would all be alright. 

-[-]-

Half the Aurors were all cramped together in Hannah’s hospital room, having Disillusioned themselves to get past the Healers, who had always been sticklers for the rules. And while these were all normal, typical things for a bunch of troublemaking Aurors to do, something seemed quite odd and out of the ordinary as soon as he saw Hannah. 

“We brought you Thai, Hannah!” Harry lifted the plastic bag, yellow smiley face and all, but she just sighed and motioned to put the bag aside. “Are you alright? I thought you’d be up and out of here soon?” 

“Well,” Hannah struggled to sit up, letting out a hiss of pain and letting Ron and Seamus lift her to the position. “It turns out that… they found out there was another, more dormant curse resting smack in the middle of my magical core. It would’ve had to’ve been someone behind me, because I wouldn’t’ve missed it.” 

Her eyes burned with the old resilience that Harry so admired about her. So strong, even now, when there was something crawling about in her core. Magical cores were like the soul of a wizard; Harry had seen people get the cores burned out of them—it looked worse than Cruciatus. A wizard’s soul would be cursed to eternal agony without its magical core. Like getting your heart ripped right out your chest. Harry’s stomach twisted at the very thought of it. 

“God, Hannah. Take care of yourself, okay?” Ron’s face was totally drained of blood. They had all been friends since Hogwarts, of course, but partnering with someone really forms a connection with them. They’ve probably seen so much together, Harry thought to himself somewhat wistfully. But that must make it so much harder for Ron to see her like this, too. 

“Of course, mate. They won’t even let me go to the cafeteria, I won’t be exerting myself much anyways,” she says, digging into the Thai with an enthusiasm only someone that was stuck in a hospital would have. 

-[-]-

Harry woke up the morning after. Another dredging, slow day of god-awful paperwork and interdepartmental bureaucracy. The thought of it almost made him want to Kedavra himself, but after a few moments of stretching and fumbling for his wand and glasses, Harry managed to roll himself out of bed. 

He went through the routine almost mindlessly: showering, brushing his teeth, buttoning up the stiff Auror uniform, all the while silently promising himself: _If I can just go and do one normal day, I’ll let myself visit Malfoy tomorrow. Just one day of not thinking about it at all, and then I can go visit. Just for a few minutes._

Harry knew if he told Hermione or even Ron about his silent promise, it wouldn’t make any sense to them. He could already picture Hermione’s hands on her hips, disapproving look on her face, and Ron’s face turning splotchy, hiding his expression behind a fake cough. It made sense to Harry, though; if he could prove to himself that he didn’t _have_ to go visit Malfoy’s shop, that he wasn’t obsessed, then he would get to go. 

Actually, thinking about it like that didn’t make very much sense at all. Harry just shook his head and got ready to Apparate. No detours. Straight to work.

Before he Apparated, though, he flicked his wand to do a quick time-check. The spell told him that he was a fair forty-five minutes early; he’d skipped his usual trip to the deli for a breakfast, his stomach was turning with anticipation. Despite the fact that he was absolutely, completely not anticipating anything at all. 

Well. He was so early, he might as well just make a quick stop. _Early enough so that there wouldn’t be anyone else at the store; just me and Malfoy,_ Harry sneakily thought to himself, and smiled. After all, no one else could read his mind. He had become a fair Legilimens after all, without Snape haranguing him constantly. That little thought would just be between himself and himself. 

-[-]-

He’d chosen to abandon the Invisibility Cloak this time around. Harry liked the thought of Malfoy seeing him, and maybe he would say something again. For some reason, he only wanted to watch Malfoy knowing that the man was able to watch him in return. 

The bell rang again, this time with no wide-eyes from the other patrons of the shop; the sun had just risen, and half of the other shops in the area still hadn’t opened. There really was no need for a book shop to be open so early, Harry thought to himself, but he supposed a stickler like Malfoy would want to be open as quickly as possible. 

Maximize the sales, not that he needed it - the Malfoy estate was still in Wiltshire, and as grand as it ever was. Harry had to investigate it once, a few months back - something about the peacocks threatening local species of crickets, which was essential for advanced Potions work. Harry would try to bring it up to Malfoy, although it might be a sensitive topic. His mother lived in the estate, still, but for some reason Malfoy hadn’t been reported as living there in a few years. 

Harry ran his hands across the spines of book - they seemed to be organized by topic, some thick, some thin. He found himself in the Dark Arts section, so if Malfoy had any suspicions, he would have a quick defense. Malfoy, Malfoy, Malfoy—Harry’s head was filled with thoughts of him, what he might do, how he might act. Nothing had changed, though, in Malfoy’s eyes; it was only Harry who saw him reading the red book upstairs. 

Right as his mind started to focus back on what he had seen, a telltale creaking echoed from the back of the store. It was the stairs that had led upwards; Harry guessed that Malfoy spent most of his time up there, storing things and tallying them to make sure they were all there. Harry knew a lot about maintaining a store; he used to spend most of his time in George’s joke shop during Auror training. He’d give a helping hand if needed, but more often than not his presence would cause trouble with the customers. More business, too, though, George would often say with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. 

Turning to face the creaking, Harry found himself eye-to-eye with Malfoy again. He didn’t have his robes on; a stiff button-up pushed to his elbows and black slacks, a clipboard in one hand. If he weren’t so pale or blonde, Harry would think that Malfoy was a spitting image of Hermione. Strict, always striving for effectiveness; but Harry’s breath didn’t hitch whenever he saw Hermione. No, it was Malfoy, for some reason. The same Malfoy that was looking at him half-suspicious, half-intrigued. 

“Come back for more already, Potter?” Malfoy raised an eyebrow before brushing past him, going up to the register and tapping his wand against it. Magical register; it told him all the money that was put in and taken out, and he scribbled all the information down on the clipboard. “I do hope you aren’t here to arrest me; I’ve just started the weekly recordings of all the shop’s stock. But you already know that, because you’ve been stalking me for some reason.” 

Harry spluttered. “I haven’t been stalking you! I don’t have the time for that!” He said, crossing his arms. “Why can’t you just admit I’m here because I want to be?” 

Malfoy ignored him for a second, seeming to finish the last bits of his recording before looking up at Harry with a sort of half-smile. “No, I believe you, Chosen One. You would never come here with ill-intent, you’re far too noble. It’s just one of my favourite activities, riling you up.” 

Harry, shocked, just replied: “Well, I’m glad you finally realize it. I actually like to read, every once in a while.” 

“As do I, as you can clearly tell.” Malfoy made a sweeping movement with his arm, referencing the entire store. Harry took his time looking around; on some of the bookcases there were cheesy pictures and quotes, floating and twinkling around the wood. There was an entire section for Merlin, of course, and Harry gaped as he watched books walk around and start reading each other. 

“The books keep getting bigger and better,” Malfoy laughed at Harry’s expression. “Merlin charmed them to retain the other’s knowledge, to tweak his notes and develop on his ideas after he was gone. I wish I knew the charm; but it would be too powerful if books kept multiplying, and human knowledge would become useless.” 

“Wow, they must’ve cost a fortune!” Harry raised his brows. Malfoy just lifted a shoulder casually. “I had a fortune to spend. I only give the books to museums and researchers, but they always have to bring them back. This is only a tiny piece of his entire collection, however.” 

“Are you kidding me?” Harry said. “This section takes up half your store!” 

“Yes, well,” Malfoy responded. “He certainly meant a lot to our people as a whole. My job is just to maintain the books, make sure they don’t wear themselves out.” 

“Wow,” Harry laughed. “What a job you’ve got, huh? I wish I could play babysitter to books all day.” 

Malfoy rolled his eyes, but just said: “Yes, you’re all dressed up in the Auror gear again; you sure you don’t have someplace to be? I’m at my workplace, why aren’t you at yours?” 

Harry didn’t quite know himself. He just thought it would be a good idea, and he wanted to see Malfoy. “I.. I have a case, and I wanted to get something on dark magic,” he said. “Not that I think you have dark magic books because you’re a Malfoy, I just feel like I missed a lot in school.” 

Malfoy just smiled at that. “Yes, you were a perfectly horrendous student back at Hogwarts. I doubt you would have gotten a single O.W.L. without that Granger,” he said, sounding surprisingly pleased. Harry felt a little indignant at that, and remarked, 

“I had a lot going on! I thought it would be more useful to just fight dark magic rather than just sitting about reading on it… but since being here, I thought it would be useful.” He shrugged, faux-casually, desperately hoping Malfoy would follow along instead of being suspicious. 

“Well, strike me dead. Harry Potter wants to study _academia,_ ” Malfoy said. His teasing tone wasn’t lost on Harry, who smiled back hesitantly. No-one likes being called stupid, but it wasn’t an incorrect assumption that Harry wasn’t the biggest learner. 

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to write a book or anything, I just want to understand a bit more.” Harry said. Malfoy seemed to respond well to this, his eyes softening just the smallest bit. 

“Well, Potter, that’s the magic of a book shop, isn’t it? Finding things that help you understand.” Malfoy set his clipboard aside, walking over to Harry in the Dark Arts section. “Allow me…” he traced the numbers on the spines of the books, looking for something. 

Harry didn’t expect him to be so accommodating, but that look in his eye when Harry talked about wanting to understand… it was something significant to him, he could tell at least that much. 

“Aha!” Malfoy lifted a thick, dusty book into the air triumphantly. Pulled out of his momentary daze, Harry stared at the large volume, not without trepidation. He had to read _that?_ Noticing the triumphant smirk on Malfoy’s face, Harry realized that he’d picked the book on purpose. Despite Malfoy saying that he trusted Harry’s motive, this was clearly a test to see if he really wanted to learn. Really wanted to be a patron of Malfoy’s book store, and he was to be determined worthy or unworthy. 

Well; Harry had been faced with bigger challenges before, and he had yet to back down. He plucked the book from Malfoy’s hand and cradled it to his chest like a baby. 

“Thanks, Malfoy! You’re really a great help,” he beamed at the other man, whose expression had changed from triumphant to momentary shock. It brought a spark of victory to Harry’s chest before he caught Malfoy smiling suspiciously again. Then, Harry realized: accepting this challenge meant he’d actually have to read this monster of a book. 

Harry had fought dementors, Inferi, and Voldemort himself, but looking at that book, cracked and old, which must have held thousands of pages… it looked worse than all three combined. 

But he just swallowed, and shoved a hand deep in his pockets to find his wallet. 

-[-]-

As soon as Harry strode into the offices for the Aurors, there were eyes staring from all directions. Aurors all knew each other back and front, and every single person in those offices knew that Harry Potter did not read in his spare time. He barely did it for work, even, so as soon as Harry saw a raised eyebrow, he hoisted his book up in his arms, turned straight on his heel, and left the offices. 

He walked down, down way below the ground level of the Ministry. His footsteps echoed, the stomping sound from his boots racheting off the walls. The walls seemed like they had not heard sound in a very, very long time.   
Finally, he reached the end. Unlike the other offices, there were no desks, no buildings, no sliding magic doors. Just a barren, arched entryway; it didn’t look like there was anyone or anything surveying the area, but Harry knew they were watching him. 

“Hello?” He called out. “It’s me, I’m not here to intrude, I promise. I just want to talk to my friend.” 

This wasn’t the place where you spoke a person’s true name. 

_Come to destroy our hard work again?_ Harry heard something speaking in his head. No words, no sound—the sentence appeared in his mind as if he had thought it himself. 

“I mean no harm. If you would please send my friend here, we will both leave and conduct this business elsewhere.” He spoke carefully, painfully aware that if he took one misstep, it could be fatal. 

_Very well. We have determined that your mind is free of malintent. She is on her way now._

“Thank you!” 

_Do not return for the rest of your mortal life. You will regret it._

“...Alright.” Harry scratched at his head awkwardly. He’d be bloody glad to never step a foot in here for the rest of his life. 

A voice called out from the other end of the arched hallway, and Harry practically sighed in relief from that familiar tone. “Harry! What’re you doing here?” 

“‘Mione! I wanted to show you this-” Harry held out the book, and it was snatched out of his hands quicker than a Niffler grabbing at gold. “Harry, where on earth did you get this? It’s endless! The pages start with a dialect of language that we haven’t seen since Arthur, and… hold on, what are you even doing with a book? You can’t sit still for a movie.” 

She closed the book, while Harry turned red and spluttered indignantly. “What are you talking about?! I just wanted you to help me read it, I want to help with Hannah’s case—” 

But Hermione just waved a dismissive hand. “Hhmph. Most of your cases have to do with the Dark Arts in some way or another, Harry. Why now?” 

 

They started their long walk up the stairs. Harry turned towards her, about to speak, but was cut off again. 

“Harry… Malfoy’s got a bookshop, doesn’t he?” 

“How do you know that?” He questioned her. Harry was starting to regret bringing her into this; he knew how she got once she started to really focus on something. 

“Oh, Harry…” she looked at him sympathetically. Harry had inadvertently revealed that he did, in fact, know that Malfoy had a bookshop. 

“I- It’s not what you think, Hermione!” He said. She just laughed. “You sound like a wife that just got caught cheating by her husband, Harry.” 

Harry crossed his arms petulantly, “Why do I have to be the wife?” 

Hermione started laughing even harder, and Harry eventually joined in. She was a truly wonderful friend, he thought. They were going to get to the bottom of the case, the book, all of it, and then he would tell her about Malfoy. How he had been in his mind so much over the past few days, how he looked so happy and enthusiastic about his books, about his job, and all of it. 

Maybe he would tell her how he was starting to think that there was more to his feelings with Malfoy, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, I don't know if anyone likes this fic or not, if you want to see something/have any suggestions or criticisms the comments are open! (and the kudos button pls) and of course, follow me @cloudheist on Tumblr I post abt drarry and harry potter! :D

**Author's Note:**

> HAHAAA THE END but don't worry, I'll be updating soon. I love this story to bits, it's my baby. 
> 
> Follow me @cloudheist I post abt drarry and harry potter sometimes!!! It'd be lovely if you dropped a comment and clicked that little button that says "kudos" because it really means a lot to me. Thanks for reading!


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